


Lessons in Obedience

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: "This is a lesson in obedience. Do not come until I tell you to."





	Lessons in Obedience

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my Alphabet Challenge prompt F is for Fuck. I couldn't resist. Hope you all enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

Vera is impressed by Joan’s knowledge of every single blind spot in this prison. She knows where cameras miss certain dark corners, knows which corridors are likely to be empty, and knows where to go to fuck Vera during the long overnight shift. 

She has taken Vera to a dark, unused stairwell that appears a little worse for wear. Though it looks abandoned (and surely Joan would never bring her somewhere they could be caught?), Vera still hesitates. 

“Take off your skirt,” the governor orders. 

Vera glances at the door, and then toward the stairs. 

“We wouldn’t be here if there was a chance we’d be caught,” Joan reminds, and Vera has to concede that she has a point. Joan is a risk-taker, but she’s not stupid. 

Feeling her cheeks flame, Vera unzips her skirt, carefully guiding it down her legs. Joan takes it from her, turning it inside out before draping it on the floor at Vera’s feet. She watches, mouth dry, as Joan kneels on the hard cement floor with only Vera’s skirt to keep her slacks clean. 

There’s something about the height different when Joan is on her knees that makes Vera feel powerful, makes her forget that Joan is the one in control. She looks down the expanse of her body, watching carefully as Joan hooks her fingers into her sodden cotton briefs and pulls them down her legs before folding the underwear with deliberate precision and tucking them into her pocket.

They don’t have a lot of time -- they never do. Vera should be ashamed at how aroused she already is, but she doesn’t care, not when Joan is looking at her like her favorite dessert. (Does Joan eat dessert? Vera suspects that she doesn't -- Joan will rarely indulge in the things she enjoys. Aside from Vera, that is.)

“This is a lesson in obedience. You've done well so far. Do not come until I tell you to.” 

Vera nods -- she’ll agree to anything at this point -- and her bun hits the wall at the first swipe of Joan’s tongue. “Oh!”

Vera never knew that _this_ could be so wonderful -- her mother had always implied that this particular sex act was the most vile, the most dirty, but Vera has come to love the feel of a mouth (one mouth in particular) on her most intimate place. 

Joan, it would seem, has a gift for oral sex. That mouth, so beautiful and so cruel, focuses on executing commands. These commands, made with her tongue and the harsh scrape of teeth, make Vera’s legs tremble. She feels it throughout her entire body. 

Vera anchors her upper back against the wall, sparing a passing thought for her uniform jacket. (She has come to keep a spare uniform in her locker, just in case.) It hardly matters, not when Joan is stroking the flat of her tongue against her entire cunt, not when she's adding her own wetness to Vera’s, not when she's eating her out so thoroughly that Vera cannot help but cry out. 

“Quiet now, Vera. We mustn't give ourselves away.” 

Vera bites her lip. Her arousal coats Joan’s chin. She's never seen anything more erotic in her life. 

Joan reapplies herself, her tongue stroking with assuredness against Vera’s clit. She does everything, everything, oh everything that Vera likes and within minutes she's there, right on the edge of pleasure bursting apart inside of her. “Oh, please let me come. I'm so, oh, so close…”

The governor stops, and the loss of her tongue hits Vera like a sucker punch. 

Joan shakes her head. Arching an eyebrow, she says, “ You'll come when I tell you to come, and not a second before. You will be obedient, Vera.” 

Vera is not keen on finding out what happens if she comes out of turn. She nods, unsure, knowing there is only one choice. 

Joan’s mouth returns, and her teeth drag against the stiff bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. Vera thinks of Fletch, of Will, of riots and vinegar tits and Lucy Gambaro -- anything to stave off her imminent release. She bites her lip to hold herself back from begging. She's stronger than that, but her body is too far gone. She bears down against Joan’s mouth with her hips, her thighs trembling. She's so very close…

...and Joan stops. Gets to her feet. Tsks in Vera’s ear. 

“I expected more self control from you, Vera. I expected you to do as I say.”

“I haven't come….I did just what you said!” Her voice cracks, a little pathetic desperation creeping at the edges. 

Joan’s body is all height and broad shoulders and unharnessed strength, and she pins Vera effortlessly to the wall. She lowers her head and brushes her mouth against the shell of the deputy’s ear. “You would have. You’d have come all over my face if I hadn't stopped. Isn't that so?”

Vera’s face burns. “Yes.” Christ, but the low thrum of Joan’s voice hits her like a shot, and settles right in her core. 

She may not be going down on her anymore, but Joan is definitely fucking her with her voice. 

“You're still so close, aren't you?”

“Oh, yes!” Vera can feel her clit stiffen and she brings her thighs together, locking in the pleasure. The friction is good, so very good. 

“You could come just listening to me, couldn't you?”

Vera nods. It wouldn't be the first time that she's gotten off at the mere memory of Joan’s voice. She replays fragments in her mind at night, in the deep dark of her bedroom, fragments that make her wetter than anything ever has. _The name’s Ms. Ferguson, but you can call me Governor…._

_Call me Governor…_

“Not yet, Vera. Just a little longer, my obedient little mouse.” 

Vera hates when Joan calls her a mouse but, fuck, even the sound of that word on Joan’s tongue feels like a caress. She shifts her thighs just so, her engorged clitoris straining for pressure, for friction, for anything that will get her off. 

Vera brings her hands to her bare thighs, digging her nails into the pale flesh to keep from touching herself. She's desperate to come and she hisses at the little crescent indentations she's made. 

Joan tsks again and draws Vera’s arms over her head, pinning them to the wall. “You want my fingers, don't you? You're simply _aching_ for release.”

Vera’s head spins, and she nods emphatically. She wants anything that Joan will give her. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

_The name’s Ms. Ferguson, but you can call me Governor…_ Her thighs tense, hard. “Yes, Governor.”

“Good, good.” Joan's mouth brushes against Vera's ear. “Come now.”

Vera shifts her thighs, tensing the muscles and conjuring the ghost of Joan’s tongue until she comes, the pleasure shattering through her in hot, throbbing pulses. 

She's never come before like this, without using her fingers to bring herself there. Joan can sense this and chuckles low in her throat. “Very good, Vera. Very, very good.” 

Joan never allows Vera to reciprocate when they are at work, and so she doesn't bother to offer. Instead, Vera licks her lips and dares to ask, “May I have my underwear, please?”

The governor chuckles once more. “Oh no. I'll be holding on to these."

Vera blushes as she reaches down for her skirt. She wonders what Joan will do with them, or if she simply gets off on having a physical reminder of what they've done. 

Once she has composed herself, she looks expectantly at Joan. “Come, Vera. There's work to be done.”

\---


End file.
